Illogically Primal
by PinChajta
Summary: A sweet rendition of how things led to the moment on the bridge to the even sweeter moments afterwards...a different take from Primally Illogical
1. New Semester

Title: Illogically Primal

Author: PinChajta

Summary: A sweet rendition of how things led to the moment on the bridge to the even sweeter moments afterwards.

Disclaimer: I don't own them

~*~

The first time that Spock had noticed Nyoto Uhura, she did not necessarily notice him. To her, he was her professor and nothing more. Little did Spock know was that Uhura never paid this close attention to any other professor. Sitting in his front row was the young woman of small stature, a petite and lean physique, and magnificently attentive eyes. Her small red uniform made her an ensign, a cadet and nothing more. Spock kept it in the back of his mind that Cadet Uhura was nothing more than another name on his roster and would be treated as such. It didn't help, though, that she excelled at every assignment he passed out, aced all of her previous courses, and asked the most in-depth, well-rounded questions during his class. She obviously meant business.

She came from a black mother and a white father—now a common mixed race that was no longer referred to as mulatto or creamed coffee. Since the 21st century, finding a human pure bred was almost impossible. Filipinos were mixing with Middle Easterners; Hispanics with Samoans; Indians with the Brits; Blacks with the Whites. Race was no longer a matter, nor was religion. Family traditions were more tolerant, but that's not to say first impressions with the in-laws weren't difficult. If someone wanted to be racist, they'd have to look beyond the stars for new intolerance.

Spock was a mix—but rather two different species, not just a race or two added in. Genetically, Vulcans were 99.87% similar to that of humans: a few differences being in appearance, strength, and their blood which runs a beautiful emerald green. Having his father mate with a female human for the good of diplomacy was logical; Sarek had learned many human traditions, values, and ethics from Amanda Grayson. He also learned that humans are emotionally handicapped, violently destructive, and overall intellectually petty creatures. That's not to say that he didn't love Amanda wholly—he loved her the only way that he knew: to provide and to protect. Sarek hadn't intended to have a racially-challenged son, but that is what the universe gave him.

Vulcans were seen as an intellectual prize on Earth. If they were on Earth to help the Terrans, they were fully cherished and provided for. A Vulcan can beat any Earthling on any IQ test and show no pride for it. A Vulcan can defeat any Earthling in hand-to-hand combat and show no sympathy for them. A Vulcan can teach any Earthling quantum physics, advanced linguistics, and teleportal schematics and show no loathing for the students who decided to sleep during their lectures.

"Cadet Kirk," Spock said with an authoritative tone which held no annoyance; this time a little louder to startle the sleeping student halfway out of his chair, "Cadet Kirk, would you please prepare yourself more dutifully by getting a full rest elsewhere before my lecture?"

James T. Kirk looked around, embarrassed at first, then settled in crookedly in his desk, smirking, "But your lectures are so soothingly _boring_, that I can't help myself from dozing off through what's it called, Conjugated Romulan Linguistics? Sounds like counting sheep to me." This got a giggle out of the class. This is when Spock noticed Uhura. She was not laughing, nor looked delighted to even be seated next to the smart-ass Kirk. Her lips were pursed and her pencil was flicking rapidly on her desk. With a long-held sigh from her, the bell rang, ending the lecture.

Before Spock could reply to his unruly student, he announced to the fleeing cadets, "Don't forget to read chapters three and four, Present Conjugations and Literal Verbs, respectively. I shouldn't have to remind you that the midterm is next Thursday." His students passed, some giving him good tidings for the weekend and others asking him quick questions about the previous readings. Uhura was slowly packing up and made her way towards his desk as the last student finished conversing with him.

"Hello Commander, I'm Cadet Uhura," she held her palm reader close to her chest and stood perfectly straight—something to admire, "I had a question about independent study. I did a study last semester with Professor Krewson and she suggested that I move on to Advanced Vulcan—but the class wasn't offered this semester," Spock tried his best to watch her eyes politely as she spoke, but her mouth formed such beautiful shapes as she pronounced every syllable perfectly giving away that she was a linguistics major. "And I rather much get it from a true Vulcan than the Adrinian professor that favors complicated examples over preferable conversation."

"Well, I would not say that I am a true Vulcan. I am rather a half-human, half-Vulcan. With that in mind, would you still prefer the independent study?"

"Oh, half-human? I couldn't tell." She took this moment to search quickly, but couldn't tell the difference.

"Most people cannot. They say that it is in my eyes."

Uhura took a moment to lock gazes with him. It was then that she realized his eyes gave away everything he was feeling, something a Vulcan was never supposed to do. She couldn't help but search more from her place across his desk. His eyebrows were predominately Vulcan, sharp, broad, and dark; his ears were a perfect curve shooting up into a textbook point; his hair was flawlessly cut and groomed, cutting his forehead with its horizon. And his lips—Uhura's gaze stayed on them a moment too long, because his tongue slowly came out to wet his lower lip—his thick, parted, unspoiled lips. With that her eyes darted back up to his, where he quickly glanced away to pack up his lingering belongings, "If you follow me to my office, I'll gladly go over my schedule with you to see where I can put you in. You can also fill out a permit to request credit for the independent study while you're there." With that he was already making quick hast out of the lecture hall and down the tall corridors towards the Linguistics Departments' wing of offices. Uhura was by his side the whole time, conversing as they brushed by other students.

"If I may speak freely Commander?"

"I welcome it."

"I couldn't believe the Academy didn't have Advanced Vulcan offered this semester since they have their very own Vulcan here, already teaching. I mean, it's not like you wouldn't be able to handle another course. I've already checked out your schedule online and it looked like you had Wednesday and Friday evenings off and I thought that since you have no classes then…" she trailed off. They were already in his office and he was scrolling through his desk files—the screen the actual desk—as Uhura spoke, far from ignoring her. She dutifully placed her bag in a chair on her side of the desk Instead of staying on the appropriate side of Spock's desk, though—the side with the visitor's couch on the wall and the students' chairs in front—she made a quick move to stand directly to his side, peering over his shoulder to see his availability. It was an entirely inappropriate move considering that Spock could now smell her, lavender, milled soap and woman, and feel her body actually emitting heat. She touched the pad on the next coming Wednesday, "See here, I can meet with you at 6:30. After the mess hall serves dinner." She was slightly leaned forward now, reading through his personal things on the screen; her soft neck just a few inches away from Spock's gaze. "And that same week, the Friday there," she pointed, but Spock wasn't looking, "I can meet with you at 8." She turned slightly, too close for his comfort, smiling to herself, "I can't meet right after dinner. That's the only time I have to use the pool. I've already worked something out with the lifeguards there to let me in so late." She turned and put her weight back casually on the desk; Spock having not moved an inch since she invaded his space, "It's nice though, I get the pool all to myself and get to completely zone out from a long week." Spock wanted to cut her off, telling her to retreat to the other side of the desk…but he couldn't lose his curiosity over how close she thought she was allowed to be.

"Sounds," Spock's voice cracked, and he attempted to clear his throat before starting again, "sounds nice. I could maybe even join you beforehand and after we could go through the true Vulcan conversation you are looking for."

"And Wednesday?"

"Yes, Wednesday. You can meet me here at 6:30."

"Great!" Uhura made her way back to the other side of the desk, bending slightly to pick up her belongings. Spock's gaze quickly went to the upper thighs that were briefly exposed in her uniform skirt, then back up to her eyes.

Spock pulled up a file on his desk and a stylus that was tucked away in a neat drawer, "Cadet Uhura, if you could sign the Independent Study Form 1-B, please."

She signed it quickly, bag over her shoulder, and made her way to the door, "Thank you Commander."

"You are welcome Cadet Uhura," he said, although he did not return her smile as she left, but gave her a curt nod instead. Once his door slowly shut behind her, he sat at the edge of his desk chair, back as straight as ever, and folded his hands on the desk, completely confused on how to feel.

These were new feelings, feelings which weren't supposed to be expressed; but it rather bothered him because he couldn't recall from all of his studies of human emotion on what this feeling was actually called. He walked smartly back to his wing in the dormitories and the automated door shut softly behind him. Spock washed up for the evening and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, perplexed. He found himself breathing a little bit faster than usual, thinking of his moments with Cadet Uhura in his office. Having just six days before their first study session together bothered Spock—and he didn't know why. He wanted it to be sooner.

As Uhura lay in bed that evening, she smiled to herself as she recalled stepping over the boundaries with Professor Spock. He was beautifully perfect and she was curious to know more about being half-Vulcan, half-human.


	2. First Study

~*~

The weekend went by uneventful. In Tuesday's lecture, Uhura sat in anticipation for the man lecturing hundreds of cadets on Romulan present-tense sentence structure. The way that he spoke in Romulan had her staring at his mouth, and most considerably at his thick lips forming the words. Kirk yanked her out of her reverie, whispering to her as he leaned over, _God, why does this guy always have to sit next to me?_

"You might want to stop staring, Vulcans aren't allowed to have random hook ups. Let alone with that of a human."

She turned her head slowly towards him, but before she could say anything, Spock spoke up in front of the class again, in Romulan, "Cadet Kirk, is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?" Little did Uhura know that those Vulcan ears could pick up on everything.

Kirk wasn't too great at speaking freely in Romulan and failed miserably, stating, "No there are nothings I have to said, I apologizing."

With that poor conjugation, the class couldn't help but roar out in laughter, including Uhura as she caught the raised eyebrow from Spock in Kirk's direction. Kirk, to Uhura's delight, was a beet red and sinking slowly in his desk chair.

Spock commanded that the class settle down and continued with his lecture, calmly. By the end of class, Uhura bid him a good day and reminded him of tomorrow's meeting.

"I would not forget our meeting for the whole galaxy," Spock slightly smiled, away from the eyes of other students. As she retreated, Spock thought over his last statement and realized how Terran it sounded, coming to recognize how illogical it sounded: he would never be able to give her the galaxy let alone possess it to give it away.

~*~

As Wednesday came, all Uhura could think about was 6:30.

She met him promptly at his office, not missing a second, and knocked on the door. He answered quickly and stepped aside, inviting her in. Walking passed him she noticed that he smelled wonderfully fresh and something flipped in her stomach, sending butterflies around. Immediately composing herself, she sat on the couch, making herself comfortable while taking out her data pad from her bag.

Spock grabbed one of the chairs and turned it towards the couch, sitting neatly on the edge of it, "Where would you like to begin?"

"I suppose just beginning a conversation in Vulcan and correcting my mistakes as we go along? How does that sound?"

"That sounds logically constructive. What would you like to talk about?" He asked in Vulcan.

Uhura seemed caught off guard for a mere second, and then continued in Vulcan, "I would like to talk about Vulcan. Traditions, culture, history…" Nyota continued with asking him about his heritage and the lineage of Vulcans that he came from. After three hours of discussing the politics, geography, horticulture, and ancient civilization of Vulcan histories. Then she asked, "What about Vulcan mating practices? Here on Earth there's the courtship and all that, but with a culture more reserved and sophisticated as yours, I'm betting there's a difference."

Now it was Spock's turn to be caught off guard. "Mating practices? May I inquire as to why you are interested in Vulcan mating practices?"

"Just a general," she paused for a nanosecond, "curiosity, I guess." It was not lost on Spock.

"In that case, what would you like to know?"

"I went over the records in the library and it stated something about 'bonding,' which did not go into very much detail. It said just that: that Vulcans bond when they mate." Spock caught on that she was leaning forward in interest of the topic and was very good with eye contact while she spoke of such a sensitive subject.

"Yes, Vulcans do bond with their mate. Not while they mate, meaning that there is only one bond between a male and a female _before_ they mate and there is no more than one partner in one lifetime. Once they do mate, the bond is finalized and the pair is inseparable until one passes on."

She sat there, considering and digesting what he had just said: "Does it only work with Vulcan on Vulcan or can it work with a Vulcan and, let's say, a human?"

"Yes, it does work but only when the male is Vulcan. When he chooses a potential mate, he starts releasing a specific pheromone only detectable by the female that he chooses. When it comes to human physiology, they are almost the same as Vulcans, allowing them to pick up on the scent. It is traditional that Vulcans' mates are chosen for them when they are children, but tradition has been giving way since our conception of the Federation.

"It worked with my mother and father: my father being the Vulcan and my mother, the human; effectively making me the half-Vulcan that I am." He paused, trying to read her face, "I apologize Cadet Uhura, but I am rather intrigued by your curiosity with the Vulcan mating practices." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah well," she laughed softly to herself, "that will have to be something we can discuss further on Friday?" Spock was taken in by her small smile and brilliant white teeth. She continued as she stood up, collecting her belongings, "I should go though, I do have your class tomorrow, you know."

"Yes, I do know. I'm sorry I have kept you from your rest."

"No, it's not a problem. I rather enjoyed our study," she had selectively changed back to speaking in English.

"I did as well. Good night Nyota."

It was not lost on her that he chose to use her first name, "Good night Spock." His eyes smiled as his office door closed behind her.


	3. Complete Stroke

Thursday's class passed, but Nyota was getting the feeling that seeing Professor Spock for only a few hours in the lecture hall was not enough, let alone sufficient considering the hundreds of other students occupying his attention.

Friday came and Spock had forgotten to ask Nyota what time she would be swimming that day, alone, in the gym. It wasn't like him to forget, _anything_, for that matter, but when it came to Nyota, his head seemed foggy.

Decidedly, he made his way across the courtyard into the gym at 1900. The San Francisco air this time of year was thick with moisture and blanketed everything. Thankfully, his hot Vulcan blood kept him at a comfortable 107 degrees Fahrenheit.

Sneaking around wasn't his priority, but he had to, considering that the gym was closed and Nyota was the only one in there. Something, though, felt as if he knew for a fact that she _was_ in there—he could feel her presence.

Making his way through the men's dark locker room was a synch—considering his perfect Vulcan vision—sliding into his full body Speedo that went tightly from his knees up to his shoulders into thick straps, accentuating his broad chest and muscular arms nicely.

He strode with his usual tall gait out to the pool deck, a perfectly white towel over one shoulder; silver cap and goggles in one hand. Folding his towel neatly on a bench, Spock caught Uhura in the middle of a freestyle lap, flip-turning efficiently on one wall, making her way back across the pool. He worked his cap nicely onto his head, tucking away his hair and especially his ears. Sliding on his goggles, he made his way over to the starting blocks, mounting one nicely—one foot curling its toes over the edge, one foot squarely back, ready to pounce. Spock dove in with a spring and shot off across his lane, working freestyle perfectly.

As Uhura made her way back across from another flip-turn, she had heard the splash in the water, instantly stopping her. She was supposed to be the only one in here. Looking across, she saw very male arms beautifully making their way across in a smooth but fast freestyle. The man made it all the way to her wall and stopped, where he pulled his goggles up to his forehead, revealing soft human eyes.

"Commander," she breathed welcomingly with a smile, "I didn't expect you to be here. Aren't we meeting at 8?"

"Yes, we are meeting at 8," he was far from breathless, "But I thought that your idea of relaxing from the stresses of the week in this manner was quite appealing. I hope I'm not encroaching on your spare time."

"I wouldn't want anyone else swimming next to me," she realized she had said this with too much honesty, causing Spock to shift.

"What is your routine?" Spock asked after a moment.

"I've already done 2400 yards. I have about 2000 yards left. Next I'm doing two 500s for time with a two minute break in between. Would you like to join me?"

"Yes, I would like that very much."

They set themselves up on the wall, watching the clock's minute hand to reach the top 60 and they were off. By the first 50 yards, Spock was already well ahead.

It took Spock four minutes and fifteen seconds to finish his 500—a remarkable time if he were human. Uhura took six minutes and fifty-three seconds, losing her energy by the 12th lap.

Spock was far from out of breath while Uhura controlled her breath deeply through her nose and out her mouth, trying to calm her heart rate. "You know, your stroke would be more effective if you completed it."

"What do you mean?" She asked through breaths.

"Your arm is coming up too soon, effectively cutting your stroking capability by 17%. Complete your stroke by pulling completely down to your thigh, pushing all the way through," he logically stated.

Uhura wanted to play with him, _when am I ever going to get another chance like this? _"Could you show me?"

Spock ducked under his lane and came to stand next to her, positioning her so he was directly behind her. He pressed his chest up against her back—a slender, perfectly colored back—and gently took her hands in his. Something comfortably sparked. He raised one of her arms up, speaking softly well above her head, "When your arm starts from in front of you in the water, you are pulling down towards your legs," his arm holding hers slowly dropped down, "but you aren't going down as far as you could." He bent her arm back upwards, only sliding by her lower stomach for a brief second, showing her where she was cutting off her stroke. Spock repeated the process with her other arm as she unconsciously pressed back into him further. "See?"

Spock raised her arms again and showed her the complete stroke, "This time start with your arms out front and keep pulling down until you reach your upper thigh." He brought her hand down, brushing her own hand against her thigh. Since his hand was successfully larger than hers, his fingers engulfing her hand were now innocently touching her exposed thigh…and for a moment too long.

Uhura could feel against her back the heat he emitted and the pace at which his heart traveled—Vulcan physiology gave him a heart rate of 200 beats per minute. She could also feel his slight arousal from their current position pressing on her lower back. What she couldn't tell was that he had closed his eyes and was breathing her in.

At this moment, she mustered up the courage to turn around and face him, their stomachs against each other—his eyes shooting open. Uhura had to look directly up at this angle considering that he was well over six feet tall and she was only 5'6''. She wanted to state something obvious, "Your eyes are dilated."

He quickly looked away and blushed a slight emerald green.

Uhura's hands came up to his chest, _why did he choose a full piece?_ She asked herself. It was time to start asking him some questions, "Why did you choose to come here tonight?"

His eyes came back to hers, "Purposefully for an effective workout. Honestly for a moment more to be with you."

"I'm glad you came," she stated, "I truly enjoy your company. Your presence is soothing."

Something was being stoked inside Spock: it was a gentle burning that was threatening to become an inferno. "I'm truly sorry Cadet Uhura, but I must be going." He stepped back, putting a foot of space in between them, then even more as he braced himself to jump out of the pool.

But before he could pull himself out, Uhura's hand grabbed one of his wrists, demanding, "Don't go, please."

"I should not have come. Our association should only be that of a teacher and a student, nothing more."

"Don't give me that Spock. You're only a couple of years older than I am and you're only a professor at this age because you're a freaking genius…"

"There are ethics, codes, and rules to consider…"

"Fuck the rules Spock," she let go of his hand and sunk into the water up to her shoulders, her eyes pleading with his.

"Excuse me?" He asked, eye brows knitting together. "What exactly were you expecting from me?"

She didn't answer right away; instead she asked, "Did you choose me?"

"I do not understand."

"I took the liberty to research even more after our session and I found two words that kept coming up concerning Vulcan mating practices…" she was cut off.

"Once again, I am befuddled as to why you are so interested in Vul…" he was cut off.

"Because I am interested in you." Uhura stared at him as she stood in the water, waist-high.

Spock looked at her with what could be considered apologetic eyes, "I will see you at 2000 hours, Cadet Uhura," he pulled himself quickly up onto the pool deck, standing straight, "This time, preferably in the study lounge." He waited.

Nyota restrained herself, "Yes Commander Spock."


	4. Destined Hero

After he had left, Nyota chided herself as she swam off the rest of her workout. _How could I have been so childish? He's a Vulcan for Christ's sake! He's not going to give in to me let alone show any interest in the matter—especially towards a cadet._

She showered quickly in the women's locker room and dressed in her thick uniform sweater and her favorite skirt. Speedily making way to the study lounge, she noticed Spock sitting in a far, quiet corner, away from others softly chatting. He had already changed back into his dark grey uniform, hiding away any skin.

Spock stood as she approached, "Good evening Cadet, please," he motioned to the seat across from him.

"Thank you," she said as she placed down her materials on the desk that now separated them. _He's going to pretend that nothing happened just an hour ago, great._

They began their session by quietly reading a Vulcan passage, then discussing the author's intentions on context. It was an ancient tale that Spock had chosen to write an essay on when he was a cadet merely five years ago.

"So what do you believe the hero's journey is?" Spock asked quietly, even though other cadets around them were not obeying any sort of quiet policy.

"Well, from this tale, the hero doesn't know who he is yet or what his destiny is," she explained.

"So you believe he is destined to be the hero, no matter the circumstances?"

"That's a matter of opinion."

"Elaborate."

"Because one thing that I believe could be good and true—hero-worthy per say—could be unreasonable and," she searched for the word to send the right message, "illogical to another reader."

Spock was no fool and caught onto her undertones immediately, "It may not be a matter of opinion for one personality of the tome but rather the character of the hero would come into question by the secondary characters and what they believe to be right and just."

"Like the Board of Education?" Uhura interjected, not wanting to tip-toe anymore.

Spock raised an eyebrow, "It is not lost on me Cadet that you are frustrated by the fact that I have clearly rejected your advances on me. It is accurate that any sort of expressed feelings in our arrangement would be inappropriate and ill-advised."

Uhura was deflated in her chair, but she took a deep breath and leaned forward, "You feel nothing then?"

He could smell her. _Lavender and chlorine._

He could see her fear of rejection in her brown eyes. _Captivating._

He could see her frown slightly, conveying pure human emotion. _Fascinating._

Underneath his uniform, his temperature was rising. He would have to avert this collision course quickly, or his body was going to produce the hormones to begin _plak tow_—something that would be unforgivable. He would have to tell her the truth.

"Nyota," he began softly, "I am currently arranged to be wedded to a Vulcan woman. It was established by our parents when we were very young. When I left Vulcan and denounced the Academy of Science, she has seen me as a pariah and has no interest in my human half—something that I am regretfully becoming quite fond of."

Nyota had so many questions about his confessions: _What was her name? When did he last see her? Did he love her, care for her? _ _Did they mate? Did he have a child out there somewhere?_ Instead she opted for a different question, instead of looking like a jealous little girl.

"Why do you regret being half-human?" She looked at him with compassion and concern, something that she knew that he needed.

His lip quirked at one corner, sadness in his eyes, "Being here on this planet has been eye-opening. I thought that I could repress my feelings but I am rather proud as to what human culture and the human condition has to offer. Being my father's son, I am questioning if I could ever have a place in the universe and I think that my journey has merely begun, here, on Earth." He wanted to add the words _with you_ but he knew that she still had suspicions about him breaking any ethical code.

"Like the hero?" She smiled sadly.

He tilted his head as he spoke, "Not quite, I'm afraid."

There was a long silence between them, looking awkwardly from each other's eyes, to the crowd, to the material before them.

Spock finally spoke, "Shall we continue?"

Nyota sighed inwardly. _Nothing can happen between us, can it? _She thought distantly as she nodded her head in response.


	5. Deep Breath

Many sessions of Nyota's independent study had come and gone. She was now looking at the tail-end of the semester and was relieved to say she was ready for the summer break. At the Academy they offered plenty of summer courses, but a handful of cadets usually disappeared for quite some time to keep their heads on straight. Luckily, her roommate Gaila was one of those students that disappeared for two months.

"…and Ricky. We'll all be traveling through Europe. God, I want to see the Ruins of Pisa, Budapest, Amsterdam, what's left of the Mona Lisa, and the Great Wall of Italy where they split the North and the South. Oh and Hans can meet us up in Sweden…" Nyota officially zoned her out. It was like a pleasant white noise now.

After she finished packing the last of her things, Gaila was off to her last final—ready to leave promptly after turning it in.

Nyota had two more finals a couple of days away and intended on studying for them as non-stop as her body would allow. The month of May was beautiful in San Francisco, so she dressed in a tank-top dress uniform.

Making her way over to the library, she caught eyes with the one man that made her semester the hardest to focus. Spock walked cleanly across the quad, nodding his acknowledgement to the fast-approaching cadet.

Since their encounter in the pool a few months ago, Nyota dropped any attempt to make the Vulcan feel. She stopped promptly in front of him, making him stop in his tracks, _he obviously has somewhere to go, Nyota._ "May I be of assistance Cadet Uhura?"

"No, I don't need any assistance…" she answered dumbly, "But I would like to ask if you could join me for a cup of coffee after finals?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not need any liquid stimulants of the such…"

"Ice cream!" She interrupted quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, "Ice cream?"

"Yes, ice cream. I doubt you've had it before. It could be a testament to your culinary adventures on Earth," Nyota knew she was pulling at loose strings now.

Being silent for a moment, Spock made her nervous, "Ok then. This Saturday, after the graduation ceremony, meet me in front of the cafeteria."

She smiled brightly, "Great, I'll see you then."

Graduation was a monotonous event that she had to wait two more years for. The ceremony itself took over five hours and the graduating cadets usually fell asleep during the multitudes of awards. It was darkly entertaining to watch because everyone was trained to sit upright in their seats, but dozing off meant sliding to your left or your right. Poor bastard that got the aisle seat.

It was the after parties that everyone looked forward to. Everyone dispersed to the bars and nightclubs of downtown San Francisco, mostly hitting up North Beach and around Harrison. While everyone was away getting drunk and into trouble, Nyota was going to keep it simple and clean with the professor.

Looking incredibly handsome in his full dress uniform from the graduation ceremony, Spock stood in front of the cafeteria, honorably awaiting Nyota's arrival, arms behind his back.

He was facing away from her as she approached, and she sociably touched his elbow to get his attention. Noticeable flinching, Nyota could tell he was on edge, but why?

Turning to greet her, he welcomed her into his atmosphere, "Good evening Nyota." It took him a moment to take in her attire: tight dark blue jeans, black heeled boots, and a flattering black tee. Her hair was down and beautifully curled—Spock had not noticed until now that he had never seen her without a tie in her hair, away from her face. "I believe it is a human custom to compliment a female when she has noticeably taken the time to acquire such a condition," he swallowed almost inconspicuously, almost, "You look beautiful."

She chuckled at his typical Vulcan explanation at anything that might be remotely uncouth, "Thank you Spock."

They walked slowly and talked fiercely as they made their way through the Presidio to a quaint little ice cream shop. Conversations of aspiring semesters and goals for the next fall came up; ideas for the summer and complaints about her roommate situation, "She has good intentions, I think," Nyota had offered kindly in Gaila's favor.

Spock was explaining that he may leave for the summer, to go see his bride-to-be on Vulcan, "There may be more on this visit that we may want to discuss."

Nyota had to know, "Like what?"

He held the door open for her to walk into the ice cream shop. She would not take her eyes off of him, least he give away any clues as to what he was truly feeling.

"She may want to discuss ending our arrangement."

The proper way for Nyota, she knew, to be feeling at this moment would be concerned for her superior officer's happiness, but instead Nyota couldn't help but feel a little closer to the man she couldn't stop thinking about. Instead of basking in a possible glow, she asked nonchalantly, "Waffle cone or sugar?"

"Excuse me?" Spock could look relative to a terrier sometimes.

Nyota giggled slightly and bit her lip as she smiled, ordering for him, "One chocolate caramel crackle and fresh cantaloupe, both in waffle cones."

"I thought you were getting ice cream?"

"Those are the flavors," she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the seemingly smartest man on the planet, "Here you go." She handed over the awkwardly-shaped treat to the confused Vulcan.

"How am I supposed to start eating this…thing?" He asked innocently, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Like this," Nyota wrapped her lips around a side of the scoop of her orange-colored ice cream and pulled the creamy goodness into her mouth, effectively licking her lips to gather any remains of the flavor.

"Fascinating," was all he responded with as he locked eyes with Nyota and attempted to taste the scoop before him.

Nyota felt flutters in her belly as she watched his lips smooth over the chocolate surface of his flavor. His eyebrows knit together briefly at the unique taste. Just after one bite he was irrationally thinking that one scoop of this delicious confection.

They walked outside, taking in the deep oranges that the buildings were flowing into from the advancing sunset. Walking in silence, the only sound made between them were the occasional laps of their tongues and Nyota's heels clicking slowly on the sidewalk. Spock couldn't understand why the sounds of her heels sounded so distant and so close at the same moment.

Walking back through the Presidio, they sat themselves on a park bench, beginning on the crunch of their cones. It took some great concentration for Spock to actually take his seat and was beginning to think that his state of wellbeing may have been prompted by this drug, this "ice cream." Vulcans preferred not to eat with their hands, therefore Spock attempted to keep his cone as covered as possible by his receding napkin.

Between crunches, Nyota figured there was no other time to ask, "So what's her name, your betrothed?" To Spock, she did not seem to be having any trouble concentrating on the task at hand: eating her cone, sitting up straight, let alone speaking without seeing the words float lazily above her face.

"Her name is T'Pring," Spock answered was he twisted his cone curiously, figuring out the most reasonable way to finish it off, "She's the Senior Assistant to the Department Head of the Botany Sector in the Vulcan Science Academy." That was difficult to even render into words. Was Nyota noticing he current condition?

"Wow, that's a mouthful."

"Indeed. May I?" Spock was referring to the lingering napkin in Nyota's hand. She thanked him as he deposed of them in a nearby receptacle. Returning to the bench, he held out his hand to gently pull Nyota up. His hand was so incredibly _hot_ in Nyota's hand. To him, she was the perfect temperature. He was quite the gentleman tonight as his eyes lingered on hers, making Nyota remember to breath.

_Gods, I love his eye contact_. They continued their walk back; the sun nearly gone passed the horizon beyond the Golden Gate. Historic Krissy Field was the ideal spot for the Academy, especially with the open quads and the old trees marking the flat vicinity. It was almost imperceptible, but as they drew closer to the dormitories in silence, both of their paces dwindled, as if walking together was a glorious luxury they could not afford to get rid of at the moment. After their walk and finishing off the cones, Spock's body felt heavy and found it hard swallow.

Spock turned slightly as they walked leisurely together, speaking softly, "From earlier in the semester, it was not in my objective to have ever rejected you, Nyota. It simply was not my place to either assume anything or act upon any of your intentions, whether they were meaningful or fleeting. My ambition for this coming fall is to dedicate a considerable amount of time to updating the range of locating sentient frequencies for the _Enterprise_, continue teaching my course load, all the while maintaining the fulfilling and fascinating friendship I have with you."

Nyota decided to give a curt smile at this, and stopped in her tracks, facing Spock, "Yes. Friends."

Before he knew it, there were two slim arms around his neck, a tight belly against his, and Nyota getting her chin around his shoulder in a Terran manner of a hug. After a moment, his hands went to her waist and fit nicely on the curve there realizing that he was, most definitely _not,_ hallucinating this contact. Spock mimicked her movement and placed his chin down on her shoulder only to be interrupted by the scent of her hair.

It was soft against his cheek and smelled of fresh shampoo. It was, for the lack of a better declaration, intoxicating. Tilting his head infinitely down, his nose was against the smooth skin of her warm neck. He couldn't control himself to take one deep breath in with his eyes languidly shut.

Something shot straight through him.

His eyes flew open and he held Nyota at arm's length. She looked questioningly up into now black eyes. Spock was attempting to control his breath and his grip on her hips got purposefully tighter. The things his body wanted to do to her in that moment…

Swallowing hard, he stated with a thick voice, "My apologies Nyota, but I must be going. I bid you a good evening." And with nothing more, he turned and walked away in the direction of his hall.

Nyota did nothing to stop him.


End file.
